Inga The Invincible
by Dan Sickles
Summary: Pretty little Katherine Howard keeps getting into trouble - so the King finds a strict Swedish housekeeper to look after her. But there's more to Inga than meets the eye!
1. Inga's Secret

INGA THE INVINCIBLE

_A Tudor story with a twist. Please comment nicely!_

"Aren't they amazing, Your Majesty?" The young blonde messenger beamed at the sad-faced, sagging English king.

"Yes, King Gustav of Sweden certainly has some amazing inventors at his court." King Henry VIII tossed a gold coin to the man who had come bearing gifts from his brother king across the icy North Sea. There was a time when Harry would have been fascinated by the amazing wind-up dolls. They were able to walk and talk and do so many things!

Harry had more troubles than any mechanical man. Even walking was hard. When he hauled himself up from his chair, he needed a stick just to drag himself over to the window.

There she was, running across the lawn with her long golden hair flying behind her. Harry could hear his young wife's laughter as she took a tumble into the soft green grass. Just watching Katherine at play made him feel years younger. There was no other girl in England so beautiful, so full of life. And then he saw young Culpepper fall down beside her . . .

"Young Master Swede, we thank our brother for his gifts," Harry said, in a hoarse voice, turning away from the window. "But our merry little queen needs no toys to make her happy. What we really need is a good strict Swedish housekeeper!"

"A housekeeper?" Katherine Howard's ripe red mouth formed a perfect picture of pouting dismay. "But Harry, I have Lady Rochford to watch over me, and we have servants both day and night!"

"Ah, but Inga's more than just a servant." The king was busy stuffing his face with food, so his words weren't clear. "I sent for her weeks ago, all the way from Sweden. She's good at cooking . . . and cleaning . . . and . . . mumf . . . ga-rumf . . . more roast chicken here!"

At first Katherine hated having a strange, foreign woman in charge of her chambers. Inga was very polite, but she was also a little scary. Whenever her big, round face was smiling, Katherine was happy. But sometimes the housekeeper looked at her in a blank way, with no expression on her face. The young queen didn't like it. Shivers went down her spine.

"At least she makes these amazing cakes!" Katherine giggled as Thomas Culpepper helped himself to one of the light, fluffy golden treats and popped one into her mouth as well. The two of them were killing the afternoon in her room, eating cakes and chatting away on her enormous bed.

"It is time for your tennis lesson, Your Majesty," Inga announced. "Your young friend can visit you later, at some more appropriate time."

"Midnight sounds appropriate to me," Culpepper murmured. His low, wickedly silken voice filled Kat with excitement.

Katherine couldn't wait. She hoped her tennis lesson wouldn't take too long! Kat liked taking it easy, volleying, joking and laughing with her good-looking instructor. But on this day the king himself came down to watch. And then someone suggested a match with Princess Mary, the one person at court Katherine absolutely detested.

She couldn't lose to mean Mary Tudor. She just couldn't!

"I can't believe that bitch is even human," Kat moaned, hours later, sinking into a big bathing tub filled with steaming water. "Doesn't she ever get tired of winning?"

"I am certain she is human," Inga said, in her funny way, bustling over to pour another bucket of hot water into the tub. "The princess tries to beat you because she is afraid of you. She is afraid that you will hurt her."

"Afraid of me?" Kat giggled. "How could I hurt a girl who has no feelings in the first place?"

"Everyone has feelings," Inga told her, emptying her heavy iron bucket into the tub. "Even those who can't feel."

"Mm." Kat couldn't always understand her new housekeeper's odd remarks. But Inga was quick, efficient, and more than capable of seeing to her basic comforts.

"Let go of your anger," the Swedish woman instructed, rubbing Katherine down after her bath. Inga insisted that in Sweden it was customary for well-born young ladies to have a massage every day, especially after strenuous exercise.

Katherine didn't mind. She felt she could get used to it.

"I can't believe I lost to that . . . to that . . ." The queen sighed as her housekeeper's firm hands massaged her slim shoulders, probing for even the tiniest aches and pains.

"To that angry and frightened girl," Inga filled in. Her strong hands worked deeper, soothing the soreness from tired muscles. "You are stronger than she is. You will give our king a son. You must be strong to do that!"

"Strong," Katherine sighed. She knew what the foreign woman wanted her to do. Inga wanted her to coax the king back into her bed. But Henry was so old, so soft and saggy. Katherine just couldn't picture herself making love to him. She fell asleep thinking of Thomas instead.

While the exhausted queen was resting in her chamber, King Henry VIII summoned the new housekeeper to his study.

"Look, Inga." Harry pointed to some sealed legal documents. "I've just appointed Thomas Culpepper as a secretary to the Royal Governor of Ireland."

"Your Majesty is wise," Inga replied. "Do you wish me to help the young man pack up his belongings?"

"Yes," the king said shortly. "I want you to pack all his things. But Thomas Culpepper won't be going to Ireland."

That night, the sleeping queen was roused by a midnight lover. Thomas Culpepper didn't care that he was placing Katherine's life in danger. He didn't care that the poor old king really loved her and wanted her to be happy. Thomas was a young man. He only cared about himself. His hot little Katherine made love to him with wild and desperate passion, and she climaxed in a screaming frenzy.

All that left Thomas feeling drained. He returned to his own chamber in a sleepy, self-satisfied sort of daze. He didn't see the hulking figure hidden in the shadows until it was too late.

Katherine woke up the next morning feeling fresh and cheerful, full of new life. The sun was shining and Inga was smiling as she served her young queen a mouth-watering breakfast on a silver tray.

"The king would like you to join him in the garden when you have finished breakfast," the housekeeper instructed.

"Of course I'll join him, you silly old dear, you." Slim little Katherine actually smiled when she hopped out of bed, and kissed the older woman on the cheek. Inga was a fantastic cook as well as a marvelous masseuse. Katherine could definitely get used to having a breakfast like that every day!

Out in the garden, the sad and lonely-looking old king was playing with some funny looking little wind-up toys. Katherine was amazed to see how the soldiers marched, and the drummers beat drums, just like living people. There were even pretty little birds that sang and chirped in tiny cages!

"They look so real," Katherine murmured. "May I have one to keep?" She gave the aging king her most winning smile.

"You already have one," Harry replied, leaning on his stick as he drew closer to her. "You have Inga."

"I don't understand." Lovely Katherine wore a puzzled frown. "Inga is not a toy. She's a housekeeper!"

"Inga was a gift from the King of Sweden. Just like these other creations you see here." Harry pointed proudly to his collection of automatons. "For the rest of your life, you will be guarded by a woman of iron who will keep all the wickedness of the world away from you. Inga will never grow old like me. She will always be there for you."

"She'll always be there for you," Katherine accused. Horror swept over her in an icy wave as the truth came home. "She'll spy on me day and night and tell on me if I ever have any fun. I always knew that horrible woman wasn't human!"

"You've had your fun," the king said quietly. "I know about you and Thomas."

Katherine blushed. But she looked her husband in the eye. "He's the only man I've ever loved."

"I know." Harry reached out, taking her hands in his. "I wanted a son, Katherine. So I turned a blind eye to you and Thomas. But no more. I've sent the young man to Ireland. He never cared for you as I did, Kat. Not deep down . . ."

"I hate you!" Katherine pulled herself free and ran from her husband. Blinded by tears, she could hardly manage to find her way back to her own chambers. Yet once there, Katherine dried her eyes. A strange calm came over her.

It was all over now. Henry would send guards, and she would be taken to the Tower. Katherine paced back and forth in her room, picturing herself bravely facing the axe. Thomas would be proud of her. People would remember her. It would all be over quickly . . .

"Ah, there you are." Inga entered the room with a fine roast on the lunch tray. A big carving knife stuck out to one side.

"You!" Katherine felt cold and hot at the same time. "You told the king. You ruined everything. And you're not even _human_. I hate you worse than I hate the king! I hate you! I hate you!"

"I can't be killed, Your Majesty. But I have feelings." Inga looked down at the huge knife sticking out of her side. With a slight jerk, she pulled it free and handed it back to the queen. "Do you wish to hurt me some more?"

Katherine stabbed out once more, blindly. Then she dropped the knife and began to cry. "Inga," she sobbed. "Inga! Inga!"

"There, there, my dear." Inga drew the weeping girl into her arms, lifting her clean off her feet. Rocking her back and forth. Comforting her like a mother.

Iron made Inga strong.

But love made her invincible.

_**A/N: This is how Katherine Howard's story might have turned out . . . in the Twilight Zone!**_


	2. The Hawk

_Chapter Two: The Hawk_

Heaving away her breakfast into the bowl by the bed, Katherine Howard decided that losing her head would have been way more fun than being pregnant.

"This is horrible," the girl moaned, rolling over on her back and shutting her eyes when the heaving finally stopped.

"No, this is wonderful! This is splendid!" Inga sounded horribly cheerful, especially for this hour of the morning. Still, Kat couldn't help feeling grateful as the huge, heavy-set woman fussed over her, first giving her cool water to drink and then tenderly wiping her flushed face with a damp cloth.

"There, there, _lilla van_," the big husky-voiced Swede soothed gently, as the slim blonde sank back on her frilly pillows. "Back to sleep, little friend. I will go and tell the king that you are having his baby. He will be so happy and proud!"

"Humph!" Kat was having a baby, but it wasn't the king's baby. A son was her only chance. If her baby was strong enough, healthy enough, the king might overlook the fact that he looked like someone else. Most likely he would have blue eyes and an incredible body, like his true father. Naughty thoughts of Thomas Culpepper made Kat smile as she fell asleep, soon forgetting all her worries and fears.

While the pretty young queen was resting in her chamber, the head housekeeper hurried to give King Henry VIII the happy news. The king was old and ailing, so Inga expected to find him still lying in bed as well. Instead he was shivering in front of a roaring fire in his private sitting room, with a hawk-faced older woman sitting close by his side.

"I must have another son," Henry croaked. Even sitting by the fire in a heavy velvet robe he couldn't seem to get warm. "Prince Edward is not healthy. Neither am I."

"You have two daughters," the woman beside him said quietly. "Either one would make a splendid queen. And they are truly yours. Your children, born of your body. Why not name Mary or Elizabeth as your successor?""

"No, Lady Katherine!" the king wheezed. "Our only hope is if Queen Katherine gives birth to a son. I don't have much time left. Now here are my commands. Young Katherine will go at once to the country, accompanied by Inga her faithful servant. If Kat gives birth to a healthy boy, she will continue to reign in honor and glory as my queen. If she fails to produce the son I need, then I will end our marriage and . . . _cough cough cough cough!_"

"That silly little girl will not live to bear you another son," hissed the stern and severe older woman. The king couldn't hear what Katherine Parr was saying, because he was coughing too hard and shivering from head to toe. A pair of strong young footmen helped the dying king back to his bed. Katherine Parr directed them as if she were already queen.

Standing unseen in the doorway, Inga heard the chilling words. She lumbered back to Kat's bedchamber at once. "She looked fierce, and _hungry_," Inga told her young friend. "Like a hawk ready to seize a scared rabbit in her talons!"

"I'm not a rabbit!" Katherine Howard hopped out of bed, feeling much better after her sleep. Her blue eyes softened as she laid her small white hand on Inga's hefty shoulder. "You're all I have, Inga. Can you help me escape? I have a plan . . ."


	3. Kat the Mighty

_Chapter Three: Kat the Mighty_

"These moonlit palace lawns have seen a lot of strange things," Katherine Howard giggled, "but nothing as strange as this!"

"Little friend, why must you have a boat ride over dry land?" Though she appeared quite human, Inga's huge, bulky mechanical body was more powerful than any draft horse. Nevertheless, it took considerable effort for the mischievous queen's most loyal servant to drag a full-sized rowboat across the emerald palace lawns by the light of the moon.

Especially since Katherine herself was riding inside the boat.

"There, that's far enough." The pretty blonde sprang lightly from the boat the moment they reached the rocky shore. "This lake is fed by the Thames River nearby. Now I want you to punch a hole in the bottom of the boat, and put my hat and gloves inside before you shove it out into the water."

"But they'll think you've drowned!"

"That's the idea," the runaway queen chirped, watching as her servant obeyed her orders. Inga easily cracked open the bottom of the boat. Her big, beefy fist was as hard as a rock!

"But what about your baby? What about the king?" Inga's round face wore a look of warm, almost motherly concern.

"This is the only way to protect my baby," Kat declared, climbing onto Inga's shoulders like a little girl going for a piggyback ride. "Everyone knows it's only a matter of days now before the poor old king breathes his last. If we stay here, Katherine Parr will kill me and my baby for sure, to clear the way for the two Tudor girls, Mary and Elizabeth. She's been soft on them for years, especially Elizabeth."

"But what about Jane Seymour's son, Prince Edward?"

"Oh, he can't last," Kat assured her servant. "His lungs are weak. They say he sweats, and coughs up blood in the night, poor boy. Now, I want you to walk along the shore until we come clear to the other side. But I want you to stay in the water, up to your knees at least, so we don't leave any tracks. Everyone will think that foolish little Kat tried to flee in a rowboat, and hit a rock and sank instead. If we're lucky, no one will even look for us. Not at the bottom of the lake!"

"You had me drag the boat to make absolutely sure everyone would see the tracks. They stop at the shore." Inga's heavy features were serious, as her mental circuits processed the information. Then her face lit up in a radiant smile. "Everyone thinks you're a silly girl, but you're not. You're really very clever!"

Kat preened, feeling as tall as a giant riding on top of Inga's mighty shoulders. "Yes, I am. The two of us together are absolutely unbeatable! Clever Kat and Mighty Inga. No, no, make that Kat the Mighty. We're a team, see. The two of us together are mightier than any man on earth!"

"But we don't want to be caught," Inga said cautiously, as she waded ashore in a marshy thicket more than a mile from the royal lawn. The moon was fading now, and a pale dawn glowed in the east.

"Leave that to me," Kat assured her. "I've got plenty of tricks in that bag I had you pack. And plenty of clever notions inside this not-so-empty blonde head!"


	4. The Gravedigger

_Chapter Four: The Gravedigger_

"Forgive me, Neville."

"Charity, my love . . . there's nothing to forgive." Fine words, Sir Neville Sinclair told himself. Fine words coming from a failure. The last Sinclair had just lost his last gamble.

The estate was failing. The fields were empty. There wasn't enough money for seeds, for tools, for horses. The peasants who had served his family for generations were gone, drawn by the lure of London. There weren't even enough laborers left to help a grieving knight bury his wife.

Neville dug deep all afternoon, blistering his hands, channeling his rage into hard work. Charity had believed in him. Though plain of face, she had been faithful and loyal. Charity had defied her religious fanatic father to marry him. They were positive they could make a new start. When the baby came, surely Charity's father would relent. Send money instead of curses. But the baby never came. The money never came. Instead fever came. Suffering. Death.

All because Neville Sinclair was too proud sell the ancient estate his family had ruled since William the Conqueror.

The sun was setting by the time he looked up from his labors. Two weary travelers were approaching on foot. Both were women, but they were a mismatched pair. One was almost a giant in stature, with broad hands, a heavy build and a round, red face. Neville liked what he saw of this one. She was a worker, made for heavy toil. The other female was young, strikingly pretty, and obviously of a higher class. Neville pegged her as nothing but trouble. An extra mouth to feed. A burden. An unwelcome reminder of his loss.

"Good evening, grave digger!" The pretty blonde's cheerful greeting grated on his nerves. Charity was dead of sickness and sadness. This girl had never been sick or sad a day of her life. "Is there an inn nearby? My maid and I are travelers. We would pay well for a bed and something to eat."

"There's no inn for miles," Neville grunted. "Are you from London? Those clothes of yours look too fancy for real work. What are you doing so far from court? Did you run away?"

"I'm not – I haven't – how did you know . . ." the deep red blush that came so becomingly to the young beauty's cheeks only confirmed Neville's suspicion. But the giant-sized maid quickly came to the rescue.

"Good friend, my lady and me, we are tired. We have walked a long way. Is there no cottage nearby? No home where we can rest? Me, I could help with the cooking, draw water from the well, chop wood for the fire. My name is Inga."

Neville grinned, throwing aside his shovel and stretching his powerful frame. "Well, Inga, I think we might find a use for you here. I am Sir Neville Sinclair, lord of Sinclair Park."

The blonde let loose a giggle, her shiny blue eyes curious. "What kind of a knight digs graves by the side of the road?"

"The kind who just killed his wife," growled Sir Neville Sinclair. "Of course it was an accident. A fever. But I killed her just the same. Shall we go indoors, ladies?"

"Thank you, sir, we shall." Katherine Howard wasn't afraid. But she didn't like this man. He'd already killed his own wife. And the look on his face told her she might be next!

_**A/N: Sorry it's been so long between chapters! I just had to come back and cook up more dangers for Kat Howard. Please review if you want to see more!**_


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